Capital ME

Oh yeah.

Hoodies are on a plane.

Golden Child.

I honestly do not know where to begin - and that seems stupid considering there have been so many thoughts running through my head in the past 48 hours.

Lets start with a simple thought - them.

I can't comprehend the last time I wanted to get out of this place so much. The walls are like a cage, and every movement, ever sound of which they make pulses my head that little bit more. I hate the fact that my mother favours her. Its torture - I feel numb when I think about it but its the black truth. Everything she does is appraised and given ten gold stars. But whenever I do something its simply a shadow that she has cast before. My mum comes upstairs and wonders why I'm sad or why I'm scowling. Why can't she see? Why is this only rellevant to me?

It could be the fact that this is selfish? But then I resent saying that because this feeling is utterly revolting.

To you this may seem petty but to be honest the fucking world revolves around her and to them - when shes home I'm jackshit. I simply sit up here and become one with the paint work. I'm not clever like her, I don't have charisma like her - and heck my 'gift' with words is a fucking myth when shes around.

This weekend the repulsive guitar broke. The computer saw some sense and decided to die on me - and guess what? "Oh Helen broke the guitar." I did not. The guitar had always been faulty. They complain that I never played it, I doubt when you read this, that you will understand what I say next but I am going to say it anyway. When I play a guitar, its not simply folding your fingers around a piece of maple - its a way in which you can communicate exactly the standards of your mind in one finger stroke. What they do not understand is that if part of that guitar was broken, then how the hell am I supposed to play it with 100% passion? I can't! Its not about the price, what it does, and who made it. Not to me - its about what I can play on it and if it makes me happy.

That guitar never made me happy.

So tomorow we're going to Birmingham (again) to swap it for store credit and I'm going to purchase a new one. Obviously, not to a standard of shitty self tuning computers. Though, my sister has to come apparently.

No.

I don't want her to come - she doesn't need to come. Infact its one of the many things she hates - but according to my mother she needs to navigate her up there. For christ sake! She's never even been therefore she doesn't know the damn way. But no, golden child has to come because apparently, even though for the last two journeys I have drowned out my parents argueing with the memoris of important landmarks, Helen knows nothing. As usual.

They don't even care if I fail my GCSE's. But with her it was all revise, revise, revise. I'd rather have that than nothing at all!

I'm so sick of playing second best because it feels like theres this big weight pressing on my chest and I can sure as hell think of one way to get rid of it. I really, really hate this place at the moment. And I really need a hug - but not even thats going to make this go away. Everything simple runs hand in hand with pandafuckingmodium. I don't want to pretend to not care about this anymore because I really do. And everytime she comes waltzing home I always end up feeling like shit.

And then my mother wonders why I ask if I can go to the doctors about *******? Ugh I bet if SHE asked she'd get it sorted to just like golden child should.

Well fuck you.

Ganglion, bye bye.

Oh yeah! I also did some research the other day about this surgery I might be having in October.

http://hcd2.bupa.co.uk/fact_sheets/html/ganglia.html

They don't even put you to sleep! And I saw a video of someone getting it done and I know I will pass out/ throw up all over the surgeon.

OMGS.

Don't trust them.

People aren't into to things that are out of their hands.
Say tomorow, you're walking down the street - heading to wherever it is you need to be, heck, you might not need to be anywhere in particular. Your going to cross the road when you get hit by a car. Theres blood ozzing from your head as you stare dazedly at the surroundings - after the shock sets in people start coming over, some panicking others trying to keep calm. There is nothing you can do - how do you feel?

Are you scared? Are you contemplating the pain running around your broken body? Or are you too deep into shock to realise that this isn't something you can't control?

You can't control something like that - even with minor situations like wathcing a buddy fall to pieces in front of you - you can't control it.

Wheres the brighter side?

It lies within your actions.

Bout time.

I don't undestand, and I can't even comprehend why I'm so angry?

It could possibly be because everytime something goes wrong I sware I won't allow people to walk all over me, but then yet they do.

It could possibly be due to the fact that I can't get around this even if I did take every side street in the world. It sickens me, oh so much. I don't understand why I haven't felt this before - it might be because I haven't allowed myself to think in months?

Or,

It could possibly be due to the fact that I'm so used to feeling like this about you that now its something I can't erase. Its like an ectasy running through me - its hell.

So maybe thats why I'm so angry. Maybe thats why I'm so sad - but to clarify this chain of events, not once did I ever stop to think and maybe if I did we wouldn't be here.

Don't look into this 'cause it won't get us anywhere. Passion over consequence?

I haven't written in a while

My guitar.
Its my red wonder drug - I suppose. Lately I've been trapped between an A and a Cmajor chord. Its strangely thereputic in a sense - but to fall I need some lyrics. And to be honest the only topic I have right now is either fictional (which is good in certain terms) or to write about revision, or finally, resentment.

I think fiction would be easier to explain where as resentment would probably give myself away.

And revision? Who wants to hear about that! Haha.

I should really write something, since I'm possibly recording in a couple of weeks. Fun stuff right? No, my voice is terrible at the moment. I suppose fiction it is.

Byebye >.<

Take two

I'm afriad - all of the time.